


A Queen above all others

by Maewn



Series: Lovaas do Vulon Ahrk Peyt [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: “Would you say, my darling,” Ilymnari says, sighing as she shifts in the hot water that laps about her shoulders, “that I am your Queen?”Aldariel smiles, setting her clothes aside in a basket and kneeling behind her, fingers caressing the back of her neck, dancing lightly on her spine.He kisses the topmost ridge of bone, before moving right to drop another kiss to her shoulder. “I would dare to say that,” he says softly.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Lovaas do Vulon Ahrk Peyt [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/445819
Kudos: 7





	A Queen above all others

“Would you say, my darling,” Ilymnari says, sighing as she shifts in the hot water that laps about her shoulders, “that I am your Queen?”

Aldariel smiles, setting her clothes aside in a basket and kneeling behind her, fingers caressing the back of her neck, dancing lightly on her spine.

He kisses the topmost ridge of bone, before moving right to drop another kiss to her shoulder. “I would dare to say that,” he says softly.

“May I demand tribute from you then, my love?” Ilymnari asks, turning her head to meet her husband’s sharp gaze. His eyes resemble the sun in eclipse, so wide are the pupils.

She licks her lips, smiling as he watches her hungrily.

“You may demand anything from me, my wife,” he says, voice rasping. “If it is within my power to grant, it will be yours.”

Ilymnari lifts one hand from where it had rested beneath the water, reaching to stroke his cheek.

He stills, tilting his head into her touch.

She tugs him forward for a kiss, muffling the sound of his groan.

“Such a devoted husband I have,” she says, pleased.

“I would lay the world at your feet, if you wished it,” he says dazedly.

“But I don’t need the entire world,” she giggles. “I have you and our child. It is enough.”

“Mmm,” Aldariel says, shuffling around so he sits beside her, and reaches out to touch the soft curve of her stomach, where their child grows.

“Do you think they’ll be a boy or girl?” he asks, voice quiet and hushed. 

“I think a girl,” Ilymnari says. She had divined the answer at the last full moon and saw moon-flower petals drifting in a lake of shining gold.

A girl, strong of heart and stubborn as her father.

Aldariel had cried when she had told him of her pregnancy.

“I never thought I’d live long enough to have children,” he had said, staring at her, eyes red. “I just-” he had muffled another sob. “We’ll be _parents_.”

His voice is that same awed, hushed tone now as he slides his hand across her stomach, crooning softly to the daughter that grows inside her.

Ilymnari waits patiently, catching his gaze when he inevitably looks to her.

“Husband,” she says sweetly. “I’ve thought of something I’d like.”

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Well, it’s more of a list,” Ilymnari says, leaning back, head tilted just so, knowing that the firelight accentuates the arc of her neck, illuminates her bright hair.

His eclipse-like eyes follow the movement as he shifts, braced against the edge of the tub. “How _long_ of a list, my Queen?” he asks.

Ilymnari decides that she quite likes how he purrs those words. “A very long list,” she says, smiling.

“Oh, how you _tease_ me,” he groans. “If it is within my power, my Queen, it is yours.”

“Hmm,” Ilymnari muses, raking her eyes over him, tense as a taut bowstring. She reaches out to curl her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She contemplates the sharp edges of her husband’s face, the high cheekbones shadowed in firelight, the faint dark circles under his eyes, the proud line of his jaw, the curve of his pale lips.

She loves him with an intensity that should be frightening, with every breath in her body, with every fiber of her soul.

And they will have a child born of that love in summer.

Aldariel watches her, catching his lower lip between his teeth, impatient.

Ilymnari leans slowly, oh so _slowly_ , down to kiss him. She loves kissing him, enjoys how he melts against her, clings to her, drinks her in like a rainstorm in the desert.

“May I take you to bed, my love,” he gasps between kisses. “Please.”

Ilymnari hums against his lips, considering. She wants him on his knees before her, mouth buried between her thighs, wants him on his back, sheathed inside her as a sword in a scabbard-

So many ways she could have him…

“You may,” she allows imperiously. “And you will worship me.”

“As the Queen you are,” he promises and gently helps her from the tub, uncaring of the water that falls to the floor as he leads her towards the bed. 

She settles against the pillows, leaning back to watch him undress. He offers her a grin, easing his shirt off slowly.

She enjoys the wait, liking how the firelight gilds his slender frame. Then he is kneeling at her feet.

“How may I worship you, my Queen?” he purrs, hands at her ankles, sliding up to her knees.

“I quite like the sight of you on your knees, Aldariel,” she says, earning a delighted grin. “And I do so enjoy that silver-tongue of yours.”

He chuckles, easing her legs over his shoulders carefully, “As my Queen commands,” he says, warm breath caressing her thighs before a wet tongue strokes down her core.

Ilymnari sighs, and groans as that tongue probes deeper, a wave of molten heat pooling inside her.

She curls fingers into his pale hair, pressing him closer, squirming when he slips two fingers to join that wicked mouth of his.

“ _Gods,”_ she gasps.

Aldariel lifts his head briefly, though his fingers still press deep and touch the most intimate parts of her. Burning eyes seek her own, making certain that nothing is amiss.

“I didn’t say stop!” Ilymnari hisses, shuddering as Aldariel crooks a finger, sending sparks skittering down her spine. 

“I do apologize, my Queen,” he says politely, though his lips curve into a smile that he tries to hide against her thigh. “Let me make it up to you.”

He redoubles his efforts, and Ilymnari’s world seems to narrow to the simplest of concepts.

There is warmth and delicious pleasure to the point of bursting, there is love and joy and heat that seems to devour and revitalize her.

She is a burning star that is exploding and being reborn, shattered and remade again.

Ilymnari falls back onto pillows she hadn’t realized she’d left, breathing hard.

Aldariel leans over her and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Was that good, love?”

“Perfect,” she gasps.

“I aim to please,” he says, smug as he kisses her again, this time on the lips.

Ilymnari sighs into it, smiling.

“Mmm,” she says. “Thank you, Aldariel.”

He smiles. “Anything for you, Ilymnari. And I do mean anything.”

“I know,” she says. "I know."


End file.
